Thomas tucked as best he could and rolled with the impact. At seventy kilometers per hour, he continued to tumble wildly until he smashed into a wall of chain-link fencing that was surrounding several racks of the ride's special-effects computer equipment. The final impact against the fence knocked him unconscious briefly.
He came to looking upward into the darkness with his feet above him resting on the fence. There was a serious pounding in his head, and the moist feeling he had on his face was probably blood from the broken nose he was certain that he had.
Thomas! Thomas Washington! Get up! Snap out of it, marine! Tammie yelled into his mind.
Without hesitation or complaint, Thomas reached into his breast pocket with his left hand—his right was now broken—and pulled out the immunobooster injector and jabbed it into his neck. He then followed the booster with a painkiller and an adrenaline injection. A few seconds later, the pain was gone, and he managed to get to his feet.
Where are they, Tammie? Thomas inquired.
The cars came down seventy meters west of here, she replied.
"This is Washington; somebody talk to me!" he announced over the net. Thomas ran as best he could in the direction of the crashed cars. His AIC told him that his M-blaster was more than fifty meters behind them, but his railpistol was still in his rear holster. He pulled the railpistol free with his left hand and the safety interlock recognized his biometric signature and went green, ready to fire.
"Everybody is fine, sir," Jackson reassured them. "It was a bumpy landing, but we came to a stop with no injuries. I'm removing the restraints now. We need backup in here."
"Kootie! Backup converge on the sarge's signal," Thomas ordered. "I want Marine One, now!"
"Yes, sir!"
Thomas found a large hole that the falling hovercars had apparently made in the wall of the virtual-effects dome and into a "backlot" area. Drywall, sparking electrical conduits, and broken aluminum studs protruded like jagged teeth on the gaping hole. Being careful not to touch the electrical wires, Thomas quickly weaved his way through the jumbled mess of rubble and debris until he stepped into a larger cavernous room filled with amusement ride vehicles in need of repair. The three crashed hovercars rested sideways against a large metal I beam on the other side of the room. The car that Thomas had been in was cracked in half and was wrapped around the beam, while the beam was basically unscathed. Had he stayed in that seat, he would have been a slimy spot on the metal beam and would be dead for certain.
"Mr. President! Are you okay, sir?" He rushed up to the middle car scanning the president and his daughter for injuries. His AIC assured him that they were alive and in stable condition.
Thomas! Deanna has a broken right ulna, Tammie exclaimed.
Tell Abigail.
"I'd say we are in at least as good of shape as you, Thomas," President Moore replied. Neither he nor his daughter realized that the latter was injured yet. "What the hell is going on?"
"Uh, not sure yet, Mr. President," Thomas replied. From the look on the president's face, he could tell that his AIC had just informed him that his daughter was injured.
"Deanna?" President Moore turned to his daughter and helped her down from the car.
"I'm okay, but my arm hurts, Daddy."
"Don't worry, baby," Moore said unwaveringly, and kissed her forehead.
"Mrs. Moore?" Thomas turned to the third car, where Clay was dropping the First Lady to the floor carefully.
"I'm fine, thank you, Thomas." Sehera straightened her blouse and dusted herself off. Thomas pulled another immunobooster injector from his coat pocket and handed it to the First Lady.
"Ma'am, Deanna has a fractured right ulna. This is immunobooster."
"Understood." Sehera took the injector from him and calmly hugged her daughter to her as she administered the medication.
"I have no detailed information about what has just happened. The most important thing is your safety right now. We need to move along the wall to the exterior of this building, and from there we'll make our way to Marine One." Thomas scanned the room and caught a glimpse of motion. He quickly raised his pistol to the ready and made certain that his body was between the motion and the president.
"Clay!" He nodded in the direction of the motion.
"See it, sir," he said. Clay squared up his shoulders and stood slightly to the left of Thomas. The two men held their weapons at the ready and began running scenarios in their minds for escape routes to Marine One.
"Sniper Three to Boss. I've got your motion in sight. Do you want me to take action, sir?"
"Negative, Sniper Three. Hold for further instruction," Thomas ordered subvocally. He didn't want to kill any innocent civilians by accident.
Disney World emergency teams began to flood through the hole in the virtual-effects dome and move toward them. Thomas waved the pistol up in front of him so they all could see it and stepped cautiously toward them. The emergency teams were shocked by the sight of the weapon and froze in their tracks.
"Nobody moves!" Thomas said. "There are snipers with a bead on you right now. Any false moves and you will not get a second chance to explain it. Back through the opening slowly, and wait there until you are given further instructions."
Michael and a squad of other agents pushed through the crowd from behind and then turned and forced them back with weapons at the ready. Once it looked like the Disney crew was under control, Kootie moved to his commander's side; he didn't seem to react to what a bloody mess he was.
"Marine One is on the ground and ready to go, sir."
"Mr. President, let's get you and your family out of here," Thomas said.
Chapter 3
October 31, 2388 AD
Sol System, Oort Cloud
Satuday, 5:25 AM, Earth Eastern Standard Time
"Happy Halloween, Lieutenant, and welcome aboard," Executive Officer USMC Colonel Larry "EndRun" Chekov welcomed Buckley to the flagship of the United States Navy, the U.S.S. Sienna Madira. The Madira was the pride and joy of the U.S. military might and was named for the most revered, popular, and heroic president in history. Every seaman in the service would give their right nut or ovary, whichever the case might be, to serve on her. The marine mecha pilot turned XO saluted the new main propulsion assistant as he stepped from the transport onto the deck.
"Thank you, sir," Lieutenant Joseph Buckley II said, returning the salute. The new crew members filed out of the rapid transport behind them. They had been in hyperspace for nearly eleven and a half weeks on the small crowded ship, and Joe was looking forward to the wide- open spaces of the two-kilometers-long supercarrier flagship.
"The commanding officer wants to talk with you." Chekov led Joe from the hangar deck up to the captain's office.
"Any reason why, sir?" Joe hesitated. "I mean, we just off-loaded fifty new sailors and marines. Why me, uh, sir?"
"Son, that is for the Old Man to tell you, not me." The XO nodded in the direction of the elevator and waited for the new crewman to join him. He tapped thirty-six, the doors closed, and it felt to Joe like they began moving backward. Finally, the backward motion stopped and the elevator moved upward for a few seconds.
"Have you managed to acquaint yourself with the blueprints of the ship yet?" the XO said, making small talk with the young officer.
"Yes, sir, Colonel," Joe replied nervously. Buckley wasn't sure, but he didn't think that he had done anything to warrant the CO's attention in a bad way. Hell, he had been on board the transport, cramped in with fifty other sailors so close that he could smell what kind of toothpaste they each used—and when they didn't. Those damned marines could learn a thing or two about hygiene. There was one Army tankhead that was kind of easy on the eyes, and Buckley had tried on more than one occasion to make time with her only to be shot down.